


Courageous Hildegard [english]

by saphique



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Acceptance, Angst, Angst and Feels, Crying, Declarations Of Love, Emotionally Repressed, F/F, Forbidden Love, Implied/Referenced Incest, Love Confessions, Sexual Repression, Spellcest, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22763440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saphique/pseuds/saphique
Summary: There is nothing more magnificent than the vision of Zelda, illuminated by the rays of the Moon and caressed by the smoke of her cigarette."Zelda, I love you. I’ve been loving you for centuries…”Zelda smiles slightly, before quietly acknowledging the troubling sincerity of her sister's confession. Suddenly, her face turns into a less pleasant emotion. There is nothing more moving than the hour of truth that strikes Zelda's face. The understanding drawing in her alarmed eyes. The fear. The escape.
Relationships: Hilda Spellman/Zelda Spellman
Comments: 15
Kudos: 36





	Courageous Hildegard [english]

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Courageous Hildegard [french]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22659187) by [saphique](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saphique/pseuds/saphique). 



> please be nice with me, I'm not a native English speaker and I'm new to the Spellcest love :)

Courage is an adjective naturally associated with the Spellman family.

  
However, a prejudice leads to dissociate gentleness from bravery. For quite some time now, Hilda has been falsely mistaken for being weak, because too kind, which reinforces the element of surprise when we understand that in fact, Hilda is the most courageous witch from all the Spellman.

It’s Hilda who said the unpronounceable.  
Hilda dared.  
Expressed what cannot be named.  
Stated what cannot be proclaimed.  
Addressed what boils deep within the Spellman sisters.

The deep nature of their symbiosis. Their mutual love, unfulfilled affection, and, to the great misfortune of these women, incestuous.

Hilda has tried to bring up their sensitive subject on numerous occasions in the past. Compliments beyond the norms of simple affection, caresses crossing the physical limits of modesty, communicative looks on the borders of seduction, inappropriate obsessions from one sister towards another sister.

At each initiative from Hilda, Zelda has always chosen to run away. Loophole, the disavowal, the cowardice, hiding behind her newspaper or vanishing through the smoke of her cigarette. And sometimes even, at night before going to bed, Zelda concealed herself under her covers with revealing speed as soon Hilda stripped naked in order to deprive herself from her sister's beauty.

But the suffering of this repressed love cannot linger, because Hilda tragically dies, slowly by dint of denying this reciprocated but repudiated passion.

On this joyous night of the full moon, during witch hour, while the sisters are comfortably seated on the chairs outside the cemetery, Hilda speaks. Under the endless weight of rejection, frustration, and with a broken heart, Hilda calls for courage, imploring to give her enough strength to lead the conversation that should have taken place centuries ago.

"It's time to talk, Zelda,” she mutters skillfully in the dark, imagining her words twirling precisely in the direction of her sister.

"Hmm ... Sabrina got herself in trouble?" Zelda wonders, without really caring.

"No idea. Zelda, I need to talk to you seriously. Talk to you about…this,” she utters, placing the palm of her own hand against her heart. "It troubles me, I can’t hide anymore.”

Not understanding, Zelda frowns, slightly turning her posture in her chair to pay better attention to her sister.

"Oh my Lilith, but what in hell are you talking about?” she questions, inhaling a puff of her cigarette.

There is nothing more magnificent than the vision of Zelda, illuminated by the rays of the Moon and caressed by the smoke of her cigarette.

"Zelda, I love you. I’ve been loving you for centuries…”

Zelda smiles slightly, before quietly acknowledging the troubling sincerity of her sister's confession. Suddenly, her face turns into a less pleasant emotion. There is nothing more moving than the hour of truth that strikes Zelda's face. The understanding drawing in her alarmed eyes. The fear. The escape.

"Hilda, shut up," Zelda suddenly looks away, paying attention to anywhere else than reality. Zelda takes a long puff of her cigarette, the red embers announcing her dissatisfaction.

"Why not just admit it and recognize it?” questions Hilda, led by courage. Her hands are sweaty from apprehension.

"We closed the subject centuries ago," Zelda's trembling hand holding the cigarette seems to be losing control, as the ash falls on her skirt. "Say no more. I couldn't bear it. Do you understand me?” Zelda advises dangerously, ignoring her sister sitting next to her.

Acting against Zelda’s wish, Hilda continues, staring at her sister with tender fondness.

"Aren't you exhausted to flee?” Hilda worries.

"Because that's what ought to do! We cannot act otherwise!” Zelda's voice is powerful, trembling in the back of her throat.

"Why feed this guilt? Hasn't our love been profoundly established for ages?” Courage continues to inspire Hilda, pushing her to finally ask the question that gnaws her. "Don’t you love me as I love you?”

"It is abject! It’s unworthy of us!” With a leap, the redhead finally turns to her sister. Her angry look is a prevention, her huge eyes are alarmed, with red veins, however Hilda ignores any obstacle to her courage. The ash from her cigarette continues to crumble on her skirt.

Hilda offers a gloomy smile, not at all nodding to Zelda's defeatist thoughts.

"Is that how you see us?” The intensity and the intimacy of the subject influence the bodies of Hilda and Zelda to come closer, unconsciously, sharing a secret too horrible to divulge to those around them, satellites to another.

"If you want to name this... connection, then yes, it’s how I name it. Abject!” Zelda's breathing is so distraught that it lifts Hilda's fine hair.

"Abject?” This word acts like a dagger in Hilda's chest. Tears cloud her vision.

"Yes! Abject. An abomination”. The word echoes. The disgust in Zelda's voice is almost palatable. Hilda nearly manages to recognize it with the tip of her tongue.

The wound of the words inflicted by the redhead is obvious in the look of the blonde. But courage does not leave the young sister, especially in front of the tenacious protest of her older sister.

"Yet, my dear Zelds, these words do not represent my tender feelings for you, and do not in any way describe those you engender in me. There is nothing abject in my heart, especially not when it concerns you.”

Zelda can't speak, her lips are shaking furiously. If Zelda could actually speak, she could choke, spit, scream. Her mouth is shaking so much that it scares Hilda. As if a volcano would spring from the bottom of its esophagus and spread lava.

"Shut up!” she manages to utter through her irritation, awkwardly and accidentally spitting on Hilda's face. No lava, just simple saliva.

Hildegard, the courageous, continues despite the objection. Perhaps she will die again this evening, assailed by her sister's indignation.

"To experience this tireless desire to kiss you cannot be reduced to an atrocity. How can all this love, this unlimited affection, could be so called, named with such sordid words, when this beauty is addressed to you, dear sister, precious woman of the night…”

Zelda is paralyzed by her sister's mouth and the seriousness of her words. Zelda no longer has the tremors in her body, she even drops her cigarette without noticing.

"If you only knew how much my love for you shapes my identity. It’s you that I implore during my prayers.”

The musicality of Hilda's confessions resembles the precious cracklings of a hearth fire, invokes the discreet morning dew, recalls the sweet fragrance of a freshly baked pastry.

"Knowing that you will be there when I wake up helps me to continue in this dark life. I constantly want to be the best version of myself in order to be sure I’m available for you, for anything," the flow of confessions cannot be interrupted, Hilda's sweet words rain down on Zelda.

In an apotheosis, in the surge of bravery, Hilda gets up and kneels at Zelda’s feet, placing the wet palm of her hands respectively on her sister’s shivering knees. Zelda no longer seems to be breathing, struggling inwardly between flight and enchantment.

"And it is the delicious hope of finally being able to consume our love that pushes me to invoke the courage to finally confront you with this repression. It must stop."

Suddenly, like a cold morning breeze, something crosses Zelda's face, transforming her whitish skin into a scene of redness. Her whole face tenses, releasing hiccups of tears. It looks like Zelda might collapse, as if her body had finally given up on an overwhelming robustness that had weakened her for years. The shadow of repression and frustration releases its grip. Her shoulders shake, her eyes twitch, and with mouth half open, Zelda burst into tears.

Hilda, in turn, no longer knows how to speak or even breathe, struck by this disconcerting image of her dear troubled sister. In sympathy, tears accumulate in her glassy eyes.

"Oh, Zelda, my dear sister. Can I take you in my arms?"

Before Hilda could even open her arms properly, Zelda rushes over, catapulting her upper body towards her sister's, her back curved, gripping her clothes, her hair, her posture. It’s not the perfect position to hug her sister in tears, kneeling in front of her, but Hilda would never move, not even for all the powers of hell.

Zelda hiccups through her tears, hides in Hilda's blond hair, squeezes her sister's shoulders with all her strength, inevitably wetting her neck with the reach of her warm tears.

To Hilda's surprise, Zelda rediscovers the use of speech.

"Oh my dear Hilda, why did you speak? Why couldn't you kept silent?” Zelda never lets go of their embrace, on the contrary she holds Hilda more firmly against her. Zelda seeks support from the initiator of this deliverance.

"Because our love simply deserves to live, otherwise it is wasted,” Hilda hides her face in the thick hair of her sister’s, who smells of nicotine and wild flowers. "Can you imagine? Wasting such a great source of magic?"

"Taking certain actions can forever alter the course of our lives, change our destiny," presages Zelda, calmly calming her tears.

Hilda slightly undoes their embrace in order to look directly at the puffy and pink eyes of Zelda. With tenderness, she places her hands on her wet cheeks, to make sure she is seen and understood.

"It’s what I want. Live in words and gestures the multicolored sparks living in my heart. I want to be with you,” her smile is magnificently prodigious, reassuring, promising. Zelda can't help but laugh nervously.

"Don’t we live in complete harmony, thus, without doing the unspeakable gesture? Isn't that enough?" still Zelda tries to find an escape.

"You have been trying to persuade yourself for centuries. You never managed to convince me. I want to stop lying to myself, to deny us. Why live an incredibly long life if it’s to refuse us to each other, when hell has endowed us with this mutual love?"

Zelda nods vigorously, trying both to convince herself and to reassure her courageous sister. Here, the repression is chased away, acceptance gradually settles in. Using her thumb, Hilda wipes away a few tears that still run down Zelda's pink cheeks.

"Oh, brave Hilda…"

Hilda understands that a single gesture could once again prove that she is the bravest witch among the Spellman, but Hilda knows very well that the instigation of the first kiss belongs to Zelda. The lips that trembled so intensely a few moments ago move together tenderly, blowing the promises of recognition and acceptance, muttering reciprocal and avowed love.


End file.
